


everything's okay

by swishandflickwit



Series: The Devil's Lucky Number [29]
Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Deckerstar - Freeform, F/M, Fluff, Light Angst, Post-3x24, S4 Canon Divergence, deckerstar fanfiction, like probably, post-reveal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-08
Updated: 2019-05-08
Packaged: 2020-02-27 21:43:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18747673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swishandflickwit/pseuds/swishandflickwit
Summary: “There are so many things wrong with that sentence,” she started slowly, “that I don’t know whether I should slap you or hug you.”In which Lucifer, after weeks of ignoring her, is unwittingly roped into a conversation with Chloe following his reveal.





	everything's okay

**Author's Note:**

> I _had_ to. Ya'll know I had to, after those ep titles were released.
> 
> Bear in mind, this was written early on. Like, _really_ early on, think potential fifth installment in the series. So I penned this way, _way_ before Netflix dropped the official trailer.
> 
> But I doubt you guys will complain lmao.

She couldn’t help it—

She screamed.

“What are you _doing?_ ”

Lucifer, the equally screeching idiot, retorted, “What am _I_ doing? What are _you_ doing?”

“What am I—” is he _serious_ right now? “This is _my_ apartment!”

At her outburst, his demeanor slackened, mouth sculpted to a frown.

“I see now that the situation may have been... erroneously judged.”

“Yeah,” she refrained from rolling her eyes, but only because he looked genuinely contrite. “By _you._ ”

“Well,” he floundered, “I’m just gonna…” he gestured at the door—the one no could have entered without passing her, and even if they had, she would have heard the click of the lock.

That Lucifer had to slide the deadbolt to exit— _that_ solidified it more than anything.

“You didn’t…” he halted without looking back, his posture stiff as if braced for impact. It only cemented her guilt at basically throwing him out when she should have expected this.

“You didn’t misjudge anything, I’m sorry.”

She tried to say that without mumbling. (Failed) Then she said her next pronouncement in one, jumbled, rueful breath.

(What a _catastrophe—_ she shouldn’t be allowed to speak)

“I was thinking about you hoping you’d hear me and when you didn’t I kind of sort of maybe a little prayed for you to come here as a joke only I didn’t think it would work I’m sorry.”

She made a ‘take-it-or-leave-it’ motion with her hand which looked rather defensive than apologetic. She dropped it forthwith.

(She’d _definitely_ been reading too much of Dante’s Inferno and the Bible if _that_ was how her inner vernacular sounded now)

He’d turned to her at that point, but that was it. He could’ve been a marble statue, shrouded in the dimness of her living room—he was so still. So carefully contained… but she could see his cracks, like all it would take was a scathing reproach from her for him to shatter.

He looked _lost,_ unbearably so, it made Chloe ache for the Lucifer of old.

Because she knew he was in there—unchanged _despite_ what she (deep down, all ready) knew—and she was unafraid. If anything, she felt a chain unlocking in her mind.

A piece of her heart slotting into its rightful place.

No, what scared her was the thought—she had all the power to bring him back.

“Lucifer…” she stepped towards him, and she could see the tips of his Louboutins toeing the glow from her kitchen. “I’m sorry.”

“You keep saying that,” he croaked. “ _I_ should be the one apologizing, you’ve every right to stay away from me. You should never have seen me like… _that._ ”

She stared at him, hard enough that he fidgeted with a cufflink.

“There are so many things wrong with that sentence,” she started slowly, “that I don’t know whether I should slap you or hug you.”

“I don’t—” he shook his head, signature petulance breaking through the vacancy. “I don’t _understand._ ”

“It’s getting late. But we have a lot to talk about, yeah?” she placed a hand on his shoulder and though he flinched, she didn’t withdraw. “All you need to know right now is that we’re good. I accept you—warts and all. Or in this case,” she smiled, if a bit sadly. “Demons and all.”

“You do?” he stammered. _“How?”_

“Easy,” she shrugged. “You’re my best friend. I know who _you_ are.”

He came into the light, and only then did she receive the gravity of his awe.

“Am I dreaming? I’ve seen you so many times in my dreams…” he shook his head, then whispered, with all the innocent curiosity of a little boy, “Is this real? Are we truly good?”

She laughed, charmed by his humility. She placed his hand on her chest, wherein her heartbeat sang—serene and steady.

“Do you feel that?”

He nodded.

“Then yeah, this is real. And if you don’t believe me, I’ll make you see.”

She pecked tenderly at his cheek.

“Everything’s okay.”

And it really was.

**Author's Note:**

> I LOVE YOU GUYS! And as a token of my love, you get not one, but **two** stories today, bringing the total round up to 30 stories!
> 
> Thank you all for sticking with me in this wild adventure! Devil's lucky number indeed, hahaha.


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